Baumgartner Generations: Henry (24 page)

No words, he
just held her, the world turning white around them.

Epilogue

Henry
nuzzled Libby’s neck, not paying attention at all to the news report everyone
else was glued to on Bel’s widescreen TV. It wasn’t just big news on campus—it
was big news everywhere.

“News out of
Ann Arbor today—Dean Mosher, son of University of Michigan Board of Regents
director Stephen Mosher, was arrested Friday on charges of racketeering, fraud
and embezzlement…”

“Serves him
right,” Elaine said under her breath, but it was loud enough for Henry to hear
her on the other side of Libby.

“Unreal.”
Bel sat at his desk, shaking his head in disbelief.

The newscaster,
a pretty blonde in a navy suit, went on, “Mosher senior paid back the missing
funds to the Literacy Tutor Foundation charity himself and has resigned from
the LTF board.”

“In other
related news, reports of widespread gambling on-campus at the University of
Michigan have focused on Fraternity Alpha Pi Alpha and members of the
fraternity leadership are under investigation for racketeering.”

Elaine
hopped off the bed and went to the window, gazing out. “Snowing again.”

“Cold, too,”
Bel chimed in. “Nearly froze my balls off walking back from the library.”

Henry
snorted. “What were you
doing in the library?”

“Not making
out with the redheaded librarian,” Bel replied with a waggle of his eyebrows.
“Unfortunately.”

Henry put
his arm protectively over Libby’s shoulders. “She’s not the librarian anymore.”

On the TV,
the news was switching segments, the anchors talking back and forth.

The blonde turned
to talk to the sportscaster. “Even in all that snow, University of Michigan won
Saturday’s game against EMU, didn’t they?”

“No surprise
there, Heather.” The sportscaster flashed a smile. His tie was awful. “They
haven’t had a winning season since ninety-five. But good news for Michigan
fans, even though Dean Mosher was one of U of M’s rising stars, the current
word from the NCAA is that there is no investigation planned for the football
program...”

Henry perked
up at that news. The game had been won, so at least the guys who had been
pressured or bribed by Dean to throw the game were off the hook.

“Hey, I gotta
get to work.” Libby leaned over and kissed Henry’s cheek. “I left my shoes in
your room.”

“Got your
magnifying glass and your reporter’s hat, cubby?” Henry stood and held his hand
out to help her up. The local paper that broke the story had given her a job,
nothing major, just a copywriter position, but it was something—and today was
her first day.

“You
coming?” Libby called over her shoulder to Elaine.

“I’m gonna
stay here a while.” Elaine stood talking to Bel, waving her roommate out.

Henry slowed
as he neared his dorm room door. It was ajar. His heart leapt in his chest as
he glanced back at Libby. Dean? Dean’s stuff had been boxed and moved out
already—he’d heard Dean’s mom did it, but he hadn’t seen her. He’d just come
home to half the room empty. But Dean’s family had connections. Had Dean sent
someone after him? Or maybe Marcus’s guys had gotten wind of who had turned
them in?

He pushed
Libby back into the hall, slowly opening the door to reveal a guy with a
suitcase and a duffel bag standing there studying the room. Henry breathed a
sigh of relief—he’d almost forgotten the call he’d received just that morning
from the housing department.

“Hey, you must
be my new roommate.” Henry gave the kid his hand and the guy shook it. “I’m
Henry Baumgartner.”

“John Hill.”

The guy
seemed normal enough. Nerdy, maybe. But that was no crime.

“So do you,
uh… play football?” Henry plopped down on his bed as Libby started putting on
her tennis shoes.

“No.” John
lifted his suitcase onto the bed.

“Into
gambling?” Henry inquired.

John gave
him a funny look. “No.”

“Got any
buildings named after you?” Libby stood and held her own hand out. “I’m Olivia
Stowe. Libby. I’m Henry’s girlfriend.”

“Nice to
meet you.” John smiled, pushing his glasses up on his nose.

Henry frowned.
“Are you into redheads?”

John glanced
between the two of them, bemused. “I don’t have anything against them.”

“I gotta
go.” Libby leaned over and gave Henry a kiss. He pulled her onto his lap and
kissed her properly.

“Good luck,”
he whispered into her flushed ear. “Call me later.”

“She’s
cute,” John remarked as Libby closed the door behind her.

“Don’t get
any ideas.” Henry’s eyes narrowed as he watched his new roommate begin to
unpack. Then he brightened. “As a matter of fact—here—if you ever get any ideas
about my girlfriend and I’m not around…”

Henry reached
under the bed.

ABOUT
SELENA KITT

Selena Kitt is a bestselling and
award-winning author of erotic fiction. She is one of the highest selling
erotic writers in the business. With half a million ebooks sold in 2011 alone,
she is the cream-at-the-top of erotica!

Her writing embodies everything
from the spicy to the scandalous, but watch out-this kitty also has sharp claws
and her stories often include intriguing edges and twists that take readers to
new, thought-provoking depths.

When she’s not pawing away at her
keyboard, Selena runs an innovative publishing company (www.excessica.com) and
in her spare time, she devotes herself to her family—a husband and four
children—and her growing organic garden. She also loves bellydancing and
photography.

Her books
EcoErotica
(2009),
The Real Mother Goose
(2010) and
Heidi and the Kaiser
(2011) were all Epic Award Finalists. Her only gay male romance,
Second
Chance
, won the Epic Award in Erotica in 2011. Her story,
Connections
,
was one of the runners-up for the 2006 Rauxa Prize, given annually to an erotic
short story of “exceptional literary quality,” out of over 1,000 nominees,
where awards are judged by a select jury and all entries are read “blind”
(without author’s name available.)

She can be reached on her website
at
www.selenakitt.com

If you enjoyed
BAUMGARTNER
GENERATIONS: HENRY,

you might also
enjoy:

BAUMGARTNER
GENERATIONS: JANIE

By
Selena Kitt

The Baumgartner series continues, this time exploring
Janie’s world as she moves to New York to try to make it as a writer, all the
while serving as part-time lover in a polyamorous relationship with Veronica
and TJ and full-time nanny to their daughter, Beth. Janie’s life is already
incredibly full when she—literally—runs into an agent one morning who sees
great potential in her—and not just as a writer. As Janie’s relationship with
Josh blooms and her career takes off, Ronnie’s happy surprise turns into a
problem that even a vacation in a mountain cabin with the Baumgartners can’t
fix, throwing everyone’s life off-kilter. Janie, especially, is spread thin,
trying to please everyone while keeping Josh from finding out the true nature
of her relationship with her benefactors. She knows she has to tell him
eventually, but fear holds her back. Will she lose him? Will she be forced to
make an impossible choice? Or will she, perhaps, find that the capacity for the
human heart to love is, indeed, endless?

Excerpt From
BAUMGARTNER GENERATIONS: JANIE

I woke up
hung over and I had no idea where in the hell I was. My first clue was a pair
of black panties I had wrapped around my wrist. I vaguely remembered having
them stuffed into my mouth at one point, and then—had they been used to tie me
to the bed post?

I rolled to
my back from my belly with a groan. Oh my god, I was sore! My pussy was sore,
my arms were sore, my thighs actually trembled when I tried to move...

What in
the hell was I doing last night?

Then
Catherine sighed and shifted in her sleep, pulling the covers up, and it all
came back. Well, most of it anyway. I admired the smooth curve of her spine,
her hair spilling over her shoulders like a river of fire, and felt faint. I
didn't even want to think about what I'd done or said the night before. I had
to get my stuff and get the hell out of there. TJ and Ronnie were going to be
worried sick. They'd probably called a million times already. Where was my
phone?

I found my
panties and shoes on the floor and remembered my dress was in the living room.
I slipped my panties on and carried my shoes, easing open the bedroom door as
quietly as I could. Behind me, Catherine sighed and rolled again, but then she
was quiet. The door clicked shut behind me and I crept down the hall, past half
a dozen closed doors—
how many rooms do they have in this apartment?
—past
the private penthouse elevator, looking for the living room.

The blinds
were still open wide and I blinked at the brightness of the morning, my head
throbbing. I'd obviously had way more to drink the night before than I’d
realized. Shading my eyes and groping my way around the couch, I returned to
the scene of the crime, hunting around the coffee table and in front of the
door wall for my things. Problem was, they were nowhere to be found.

I stood
there for a moment, lost in foggy thought, trying to recall. Had I gotten up in
the middle of the night to get my clothes? I didn't think so, but I was pretty
hung over. I couldn't be sure. Maybe—

"Are
you looking for these?"

I probably
would have screamed if my throat and mouth hadn't already been so filled with
cotton.

"Who
are you?" I squeaked, my arms snapping quickly closed to cover my breasts,
my shoes still in hand, but I knew it was too late. And I knew, in an instant,
who he was. Of course. It was Catherine's husband. If nothing else, I would
have recognized him by the vanity wedding photo over the fireplace—the dark,
curly hair and smiling eyes were a giveaway, although he was a few years older
in person. And there he was, standing there looking scruffy and disheveled like
he'd just woken up, too, wearing a navy colored robe belted at the waist and
holding my clothes out in one hand like a waiter.

"I'm
Josh." He took two steps forward, putting my folded dress and my purse on
the coffee table and taking a step back to turn around. "Go ahead. I won't
look."

"Thanks,"
I croaked. It was a little late for the whole not-looking thing, but I grabbed
my dress and pulled it quickly over my head, wishing now that it was made of
more material.

"I
think you have some messages." He turned to say this over his shoulder,
still keeping his eyes averted. "Your phone's been beeping."

I unzipped
my purse and checked. Twelve messages—ten texts and two voice mails. Of course,
the voice mails were Ronnie and TJ, respectively, the first asking where I was,
the second asking if I was okay. The texts were all Lil. I flipped my phone
closed—I'd read them later.

"Thanks,"
I said again, clearing my throat. "I'm dressed now. You can turn
around."

He did,
giving my outfit a once-over. "It looks much better on. So what's your
name?"

I smoothed
my hair. "I'm sorry. I'm Jane. Janie."

"Well,
Jane-Janie... it's nice to meet you." He held out his hand. I took a few
barefoot steps toward him to shake it. What else could I do?

Never mind
that it happened to be the hand which had been buried up to the wrist in his
wife's cunt the night before... Thinking about that made me want to pass out.

"It
just Janie."

"Want
some coffee, Just-Janie?" He nodded behind him toward the kitchen. So
that's where he'd been when I thought I was sneaking by, I realized. "It's
fresh."

I shook my
head. "No, I should...I need to get home."

"I'll
get you a car." He walked over to the wall, reaching for a button on the
intercom.

"No!"
I caught up with him just in time, covering his hand with mine. He looked at me
in surprise, eyebrows raised. I moved my hand as if I’d been burned. "I
mean...I can take the subway."

"In
that?" He blinked at me. "I couldn't live myself knowing I let you out
of here to ride the subway wearing that."

"I wore
it last night," I protested.

Oh crap. I'd
also worn a wrap I'd checked at the door and had forgotten to retrieve when
Catherine and I left
1 Oak
in such a hurry the night before.

"Which
is, I'm sure, one of the myriad of reasons Catherine decided to bring you
home." He smiled as he began to unbelt his robe. I took a wary step back,
my eyes widening, and he shook his head, shrugging the robe off his shoulders.
He was wearing blue and gray striped pajama pants underneath. "Here. Put
this on. Let's get you some coffee to help your head and I'll call you a car to
take you home, okay?"